I know a lot of people wonder why I do the things I do, why I live my life this way, up in the clouds (as you would say) and not the way everyone is used to. What sort of discordant music do I dance to, that I can’t seem to equip myself for the practical rhythm of this world?
What do I hope to gain and conquer when I sing songs of utopia, of alternate times and spaces and beings, when I frown upon the tenets of your material religion?
Do you know why I like to walk alone for long stretches of time? It’s because I’m looking for things—maybe looking beyond things—so that in those flower bushes we easily ignore, I see life and the mystery of how it unfolds each passing day; in those trees that tower well above us, I hear secrets and things we can only hope to know if we listen… In searching for the meaning of life, the way the universe works, and how you and I are infinitesimally small, I gain nothing except a keen sense of my role in the tapestry, this tapestry woven with such intricate detail and beauty that a quick pause for quiet observation will show you how much a person can soil it. We make the mistake of arrogance, in thinking we know how to determine this pattern, and do so with the bigotry and egoism we call “human freedom”, whose values are skewed to point in errant directions, and do you see now how much we’ve been perpetuating this ugly pattern? It never looks as beautiful as it should, not even if one took out the role of the world in it, and all it featured was just us people. Against the backdrop of the universe, we’ve become abominations and erratic lines and nonsensical scribbles.
While you think, “Poor girl”, with all the little things I do, and all the big things I refuse to do that look life-determining and important to you, I’m only doing all those things you’ve been longing to do, all those things you didn’t even know you wanted to do. And probably should do. I dream. I question. And I look for answers in places where they should be looked for—in the universe, in myself. Because we should be one and the same, the universe and I. “I am part of it and it is part of me,” the thing I’ve always wanted people to believe, deep, deep down in the core of their being. To this day, I’m in awe for how few were open to even just listen to this impetus of our humanness, our meaning, our existence. Why? What is it that they have forgotten, and why have they chosen to forget despite the constant tug at our heartstrings? In the tides of the ocean, in the vastness of the sea, the howling of the wind, and the smell of the earth—it is there, always calling us, lamenting for us, always asking you to stop and wonder and search for what it is we’ve forgotten but still choose to forget.
This impetus has nothing to do with suits, money, nor prestige, and all the things we’re taught to want. While we argue that we can’t really defeat the system, can I ask you, which do you really think is the mightier? The abomination we’ve made of nature, what we’ve come to believe is natural, or nature’s silent threat of unleashing its full power? In the face of this vastness, do we see how small we are? Or is it that we’ve purposely corrupted our notion of scales, in our quest to make ourselves appear bigger than we really are, that we have made ourselves the center of everything, when we’re logically and obviously not? And worse still, we have fully convinced ourselves of this, and planted a billion seeds of this lie in our daily lives, in the little actions we do and the choices we make.
And when I refuse to live the way you do, please don’t take too much offense, nor pity me. I look for things and so I see things you often miss, like the sound of shadows, the smell of colors, and the hundredfold flavors of the wind. That is the sort of music I dance to, and it is only discordant to those who refuse to hear, much less listen, to the grandeur and scale of the whole which it is only a tiny part of. My whole existence has been dedicated to inviting you to pay attention to the things that truly matter, to that which you call frivolity but is actually what real music might sound like. I pity you only insofar as you refuse to truly, really, wholeheartedly, and sincerely live. Only then can you have the right to tell me to stop dreaming.